


there will be history between us

by lilibug



Series: maybe we can hold off [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Cause there's smut, F/M, Ravenclaw!Jughead, Slytherin!Betty, a hp au, a mountain of dialogue, back in time to hogwarts we go, did i say smut?, references to all the hp things, then a montage of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilibug/pseuds/lilibug
Summary: High school is a confusing time, Hogwarts no less.Betty's got her mother breathing down her neck like a dragon, she might be on the verge of failing herbology, boys are suddenly looking at her, but all she can think about iswhen the bloody hell did Jughead Jones get so hot?





	there will be history between us

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, I see you've clicked on this. May I also recomend the next one in the series? This is actually a prequel fic, but honestly they can be read as standalones as well. 
> 
> Anywho, yet another thing I've started as I ignore my other wips (please don't throw stones at me - I throw enough at myself). 
> 
> Big big big thanks to [@bettysnooper](https://bettysnooper.tumblr.com), [@theheavycrown](https://theheavycrown.tumblr.com) & [@stark](https://stark.tumblr.com) for beta services and friendship and flails.

The summer between fourth and fifth year was the one where Archie Andrews _got hot_.

At least, according to Kevin, who’d called him _fit_ and _a bit of a dish._

Betty thought he looked exactly the same as the last time she'd seen him get off the train in London. _Maybe_ his hair was a little more swoopy in the front, _maybe_ he filled out his robes a bit more, and _maybe_ he was taller than her now. But he looked the same, just a little older, as they all were.

Perhaps she should have known, then, that she had fallen out of love with him.

Not that she was positive she was ever _in_ love with him, just the idea of them together. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Defying prejudice throughout Hogwarts. A real power couple.

It had taken until the Yule ball for her to see the error of her ways, aka The Night They Never Talk About. The one where she confessed her feelings for him, wearing a scarlet red dress she had bought behind her mother's back, in a broom closet that Cheryl Blossom had shoved them into during a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven...

It was six minutes of torture, and Archie stammering variations of the following:

"W—well, that's — _nice_ , but I've never felt that way about you."

"You're one of my best _friends_."

"I'm never going to be _good_ enough for you."

She blinked through the tears, staring up at his stupid face and the scar between his brows, as the weight that had been bearing down on her released all at once.

It was a relief.

"Oh," she whispered quietly when he finally ran out of things to say. "Okay."

"Betty…"

The door had been yanked open, dim light from the hallway filtering in and highlighting the confusion on Archie's face. He looked sad, mouth dipping into a frown as he reached a hand up to her cheek.

She turned away from him and slipped past a smirking Cheryl, who (surprisingly) let her go.

"You know," Betty tossed over her shoulder, halting for a moment before disappearing into the common room, "Veronica has a thing for you, Arch."

The invigorating music of The Wicked Sisters was in strange juxtaposition with the traditional, formal decor of the Slytherin dormitories. The beat drowned out the faint call of her name, and she pushed it to the back of her mind. Squeezing through the after party of tightly packed teens, she swung into the false wall near several ornate bookcases, a secret passage that carried a set of winding stairs up to the main hall from the dungeons.

It ended in the kitchens, just to the left of the Great Hall. Both a blessing and a curse.

Nicking two pumpkin pasties from underneath a glass covered platter, she bit into one with a sigh, kicked off her heels, mumbled a quick _wingardium leviosa_ with a swish and flick of her wrist, and tucked her wand underneath her arm. The chunky velvet heels dangled behind her, feet slapping against the cool stone.

There were still quiet murmurs of music from the Great Hall itself, professors no doubt still dancing to the slow tempo now that most of the students had dissipated.

She walked past the grand staircase, mouth full of pumpkin, wondering if it would be immature to sneak into the greenhouse and grab a vial of stinksap. It's not like Archie's Quidditch robes could smell _that_ much worse—

Suddenly, she was pulled from her thoughts when she tripped over an extended leg.

"Shit—"

The low timbre was male, as was the hand that shot out as if to steady her just as she got underfoot again.

"Sorry about that, Cooper. Didn't realize I was sticking out that far."

Blinking, she looked up from the too short trousers, ankles on blatant display, to the face of Jughead Jones.

He had a book open across his chest, one leg propped up, as he reclined along the length of the first stone step. His signature ragged beanie was pulled down over a few unruly curls of dark hair.

She had never seen him without that hat.

His face was twisted into a frown, eyes sweeping over her as she stood up straight again.

Her hand covered her mouth immediately, as she remembered her cheeks were bulging from the bites of pastry, and hastily chewed to swallow it down. She was lucky she hadn't choked and spewed pumpkin everywhere.

"'Unkin' passy?" She thrust the unbitten pastry out to him, cheeks flushing with heat, and his eyebrows rose, practically disappearing under the edge of the beanie.

"Yeah, why not."

He accepted it, fingers barely brushing her own, before he raised it to his mouth, taking a comically large bite.

The brevity of the touch didn't diminish the tingle that soared up her arm at the contact, like a tiny static shock that lit up her nerve endings one by one. She shivered, spine straightening as she swallowed, and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth. In the silence, her gaze jumped around the empty hallway, then back to him. Nodding to the book on his chest, her head tilted to the side.

They hadn't spoken much, aside from the random occurrences during the classes that Slytherin and Ravenclaw shared. But from what she had _observed_ , despite his friendship with Archie, he had a sharp, sardonic wit as well as insightful thought. He was a formidable challenge for top marks in their classes. The other being Dilton Doiley, and well, he didn't scare her much.

She wondered why he was friends with Archie.

She wondered why _she_ was friends with Archie.

Perhaps there was still too much salt in that wound, though.

"Not enjoying the ball?"

His nose scrunched slightly, with a slight shake of his head, as he finished the pumpkin treat. "Not my thing. Plus, I've outgrown my dress robes. Can only take so much of Cheryl's ribbing," he looked pointedly to his ankles with a roll of his eyes, "I wasn't exactly able to spring for new ones."

"Not a dancer?"

"Not a people person."

Betty nodded, "Makes sense."

He looked a little quizzical but brushed it off to snap the spine of his book shut, dust particles whooshing up from weathered pages. The lettering was so faded, she couldn't even make out the title.

Jughead stood, and she connected the bare ankles to the fact that he was a good head taller than her now. She hadn't noticed it before, hadn't noticed much of anything about him before; until now. His gaze was entirely focused on her, eyes slipping over her face and lingering on the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Should I ask?" His tone grew softer, and it made her stomach swoop uncomfortably.

"No, I don't think so. Honestly?" She rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. "This isn't really a bad cry."

His eyebrow arched, "There's a good type of cry?"

"Mmhm. Sometimes," she nodded, "But let's just say it had to do with Archie."

"Ah…" An awkward silence stretched between them, and his eyes flitted away to the ground. "I'm happy for you guys—"

"Oh, Merlin—" she interrupted with a laugh, hand reaching out to swat at the lapel of his navy robe. " _No_. Not like that. Not anymore."

His demeanor changed, spine straightening and shoulders stretching the too-tight robes as he seemed to both relax and grow tense all at once.

"I always figured you guys, you know... would, though."

She shrugged a shoulder, the thin strap of her dress slipping down her arm at the movement. "It just wasn't in the stars," a groan followed her words as it clicked in her head, eyebrows crinkling together in frustration. " _Bloody hell_ , that old bat Trelawney was right."

Amusement passed over his features, "Ignoring the imperceptible powers of Divination? How dare you, Cooper."

"Oh, shut it. I should have dropped that _ages_ ago."

"But you didn't," he prompted. An upturn of his mouth accompanied a knowing look that had her bristling.

Betty huffed, "I don't quit once I start something."

"Well, all the better. Maybe it'll distract you enough for me to pull ahead in Charms."

"Oh, please." A smile peppered her cheeks, and she propped a hand up on her hip. "You've got to wish for a lot more than Divination to bring me down."

He laughed, head knocking back, and she suddenly found it difficult to draw her attention from the way his Adam's apple bobbed. "Fine, but don't think I'm using my Christmas Cracker wish on you."

Rolling her eyes, she knocked her foot into his shin as she crossed her arms, the chill raising goosebumps along her upper arms and shoulders. "Gonna have to beat me all on your own, Jones."

"You do know I got higher marks on our Potions and Transfigurations finals, don't you?"

"Hmm, fascinating."

Jughead smirked, amusement dripping off the curve of his mouth like thick, dark honey, "Is your eye supposed to be twitching like that?"

"Don't make me hex you. I'll have you know that I'm staying here over the break to get a head start on next semester. Coincidentally, it gets me away from my crazy mother, so win-win." She relished in the thought of a Christmas away from the Cooper household and the blood purity tension that holidays always brought on. Of course, it wasn't the only time her parents were at each other's necks.

"Yeah? So am I, but I don't really have a choice." He seemed to shrink a little, shoulders hunching back into the slouchy posture he always fell into beside Archie.

Something in his voice made her heart ache, and she felt the urge to reach out, fingers itching to squeeze around his arm in comfort. She had to clench her hand into a fist, and tuck it behind her back, lest she touch him again.

"You have a sister though, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Jellybean — or I guess she's got her heart set on JB now. She'll be here next year, but I worry about her with my dad."

"Oh. Is… is your dad…?" Trailing off, she watched his head shake, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I mean, he's not going to hit her. But he's a drunk, so it's not like he's going to pay attention to her either."

She can taste a modicum of scorn on the tip of her tongue, and no matter the differences that might separate their situations, it's all too familiar.

Betty blinked, realization dawning on her slowly like the sun struggling to rise on a lazy morning.

"Oh, actually, my mother — well, my parents — I think I remember she said she went to school with a Jones."

The abhorrent look on her mother's face when she listed off the surnames of those she wasn't willing to have her daughters associate with would be forever burned in her memory. _Hypocrite_ , she couldn't help but mutter under her breath beneath the polite nod of her head. With such stringent values instilled so young, it was a wonder she wasn't further under her mother’s overbearing thumb.

No, she wanted to be nothing like Alice Cooper.

"Probably. So did Archie's parents." He winced, "Sorry."

"It's… fine. It's not like I'm going to stop being friends with him."

Jughead brushed his nose with the pad of his thumb and grinned. "He's kind of like a puppy. Can't really leave him unsupervised with good conscience, you know?"

The comment pulled a rather unladylike snort from her, followed by a high, girlish laugh. "That's so true it hurts."

"Well, I'm glad I could make you laugh tonight. Guess I was good for something after all."

She wanted to frown, to tell him of how much he was worth in the world — but… she hardly knew him at all. "Of course you are."

He seemed taken aback for a moment, before the look dissolved into something unreadable. "Whatever you say, Cooper. I'll see you around over break, might follow in your example and hit the books."

"As long as you don't distract me," Betty found herself saying, lips loose as words tumbled out before she had the chance to think them through, "—you could always join me."

"Me?" He brought a hand to his chest in mock indignation, waving her away. "Distracting? Never."

Her eyes rolled, hand tightening at her back, as she resisted another urge to swat at him. "Whatever. I'm heading to bed and taking a sleeping draught to drown out the party no doubt still blaring in the common room."

"Slytherins," Jughead tsk'd, "who knew they were such party animals? I don't suppose it's tea and biscuits down there, huh? You reckon they have digestives? They're good for the constitution, you know."

" _Jones,_ " she warned, mouth twitching. "Stop while you're in the clear."

"Fine, but you know…" he started, lips parting as his eyes swept over her in what seemed like slow motion. "You look better in green. Brings out your eyes." The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smirk, fingers raising to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He was close enough she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. Her eyes pulled to his own, deep and stormy grey with dark circles under them that made him look ages older. Betty wanted to run her thumb under the skin there, draw a line down his cheek to the constellation of freckles and connect the dots.

Blood pumped in her ears with the heavy thud of her heart clanking like a hammer falling into place. Until, suddenly, she was watching him walk away, book tucked under his arm and hands stuffed in his pockets.

She couldn't help but think the summer between fourth and fifth year was the one that Jughead Jones got hot. Not Archie Andrews.

***

Thanks to the time she spent with Jughead over the winter break, Betty spent the rest of that year in a perpetual state of fluster.

It was like he had jump-started something in her heart that she hadn't known was there. But once the feeling had made itself known, it was very prevalent.

She might look back on that three week break if she wanted to pinpoint the moment the tide turned.

A good part of their time was spent in the library — a place they both felt at home. It was even more quiet than usual, with the majority of students home for the holiday. Every place they went felt enveloped in a bubble of solitude. One she didn't mind sharing.

Even though he could be _infuriating_ at times.

For a Ravenclaw, Jughead was completely unorganized. Notes and books a right mess that made her ache a little inside. He seemed nonchalant in his studies, eyes rolling over the pages in lackadaisical fashion. He preferred attempting to distract her with charmed scraps of paper and pulling her attention to different topics. It was a wonder that he was the one she was competing with for top marks.

She wasn't sure if it was intentional to disrupt her plans for getting ahead or _what_ , but for once, she didn't mind the skew of things.

Every brush of their hands in passing of papers, books, snacks — Betty couldn't help but peak up through her lashes, wondering if he felt anything at all. Her own nerve-endings lighting up like she had been scorched. The hot-cold sensation of burning that made her stomach uneasy.

They spent Christmas Eve with the professors who had stayed, all sitting at the lone table in the Great Hall. Her thigh pressed to his underneath the table to avoid being squished against Ben who sat down ridiculously close to her.

He didn't say anything but didn't move away either. His shoulders were fraught with tension, elbows bumping together every so often. She was half afraid he was just going to up and leave altogether, but as the evening went on, he relaxed beside her.

Christmas Morning, she had a fire call with her mother and father and opened her presents, thanking them with a tight-lipped smile at the condescension in her mother's tone. Alice hadn't been happy with Betty's insistence of staying over the break.

She didn't see Jughead, but the next day, he was wearing a warm, soft looking jumper embossed with the letter 'J' on the front.

He smiled bashfully as she plucked at the front of it. Mary, Archie's mother, sent him one every year.

They spent New Year's guzzling fizzy rock candy and playing rounds of Exploding Snap with Trevor and Valerie Brown in the Ravenclaw Tower. She agreed to play a game of Wizard's chess where Jughead won in a matter of minutes, leaving her mouth gaping open like a fish.

He reached a finger out and tipped it under her chin, closing her mouth with a soft clink of her teeth.

"You'll catch flies like that," he smirked before leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head in triumph.

She had to remind herself to breathe — before declaring that he must have cheated.

That sparked a debate (read: argument) that only ended when the clock struck midnight, and the common room exploded in a tizzy of streamers and confetti. Her demand for a rematch was soon forgotten as they did a shot of firewhisky, and the rest of the night turned fuzzy.

Jughead watched her from his perch of a plush chair by the fireplace, eyes following her as his housemates pulled her this way and that around the room, dancing to music that felt far away.

She was happy to escape the dungeons for the night, the eclectic Ravenclaws welcoming her with open arms and dreamy smiles. Such a juxtaposition to her own House, though she never felt mis-sorted despite what her friends might think.

It was easy to see why Archie had befriended Jughead early on, and she worked her quill between her teeth until it snapped thinking about the three of them spending any time together when break was over.

But as things turned out, it wasn't awkward. At least, not with Archie.

Maybe _she_ was the awkward one.

It was the last Sunday before the term began again, and they had managed to convince a bewildered Archie ("Since when do you guys hang out? How long have I been gone? What year is it?") to accompany them to the library so he could copy the notes they managed to pull together. He was going to need their help for the O.W.L.s, despite his insistence that a professional Quidditch player didn't need good marks.

Her eyes rolled at that one.

While he began the transcription process with a grumble, Betty opened her beaded bag to pull out the stack of books she had been hoarding in her dorm since right before the ball. Madam Pince was liable to ban her if she waited another day. It was time to say goodbye, and perhaps, pick out a few new ones.

Wandering the aisles, she ran her finger down the velvet spine of the first book, tapped the letters printed at the bottom, and moved to slide the book back onto the shelf. She hummed softly, moving at a leisurely pace and watching the books float back to their homes between all the others as she worked.

A chill passed over her, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She felt a little like someone had cast _petrificus totalus_ on her, but the sharp rise of her chest as she sucked a breath in dispelled the thought.

There was breath against the shell of her ear. The brush of worn knit brushed over her bare arm as a hand came up alongside hers to run a finger over the spine of the book she had just slid onto the shelf.

"Goshawk’s Guide to Herbology?" Jughead's tone was low, barely above a whisper as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Having trouble in Longbottom's class again?"

"Not _again_ ," she bristled, then dejectedly added, "...still."

"You're lucky I didn't continue with it," he tapped the book the rest of the way into place, fingers lingering along the shelf and caging her in on one side.

She caught herself leaning towards his arm and gave a little shake of her head. She could feel the ends of her ponytail brushing the collar of his shirt. The heat of him burned, so close to her back. "I can _hear_ you smirking."

"Oh? Can you?" he chuckled, the sound causing her stomach to flip-flop.

Betty held her breath and turned in place on her heel. Face to face, she tilted her head back to look up at him. Her shaky exhale fanned the dip in his collarbone she suddenly wanted to lick.

What in the _flying fuck_ was she thinking?

"See — smirk. Right there." Her gaze flickered toward his mouth, upturned lips parting just enough for his tongue to dart out and wet his lower one.

The thought of tugging it between her teeth had her looking away, down to something safe like… the cable knit of his dark navy jumper and the loose thread she wanted to snap off.

She dreaded to think of him in his school robes, tie lazy around his neck and itching for her to wrap her hand around.

Clearing her throat, she felt her cheeks heat. Her hand came up to push at his chest (decidedly firm under the tips of her fingers and only fueling her curiosity) so she could step away from him. She turned to walk down the aisle, if only to catch her breath. She could think clearer without staring up at the way he looked at her, almost as if she was a book he wanted to savor.

Soft footfalls followed her as she rounded the corner, pulling the last book from her bag and letting it float up to one of the higher shelves.

"I could always tutor you."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, that doesn't make you sound conceited _at all_."

"So, is that a no?"

"No."

He laughed again, and Betty suddenly missed his breath swooping over her ear and neck. Bringing a hand up, she tugged at the collar of her jumper before smoothing a hand down her ponytail.

"Maybe Dilton could help you out."

Her face twisted at that, nose scrunching as she squinted over at him. "When Hell freezes over. I'm pretty sure he would either try to make me fail, or he'd end up ' _accidentally_ ' touching my boobs."

Jughead's eyes darted down to the v of her jumper, lingering a moment, before bouncing back to her face. "Wouldn't want to chance that, I suppose."

Even with the distance between them, she could tell his eyes were dark — black swallowing blue.

A barely contained shiver surged down her spine in what felt like slow-motion, mouth drying at the intensity of his gaze. She wanted him closer than he was, wanted his breath across her lips and neck, and wanted her hands in his hair.

It was frightening.

"Yeah," she swallowed lamely, tone withering off as she watched him turn his head, the way his jaw clenched tight as if with restraint.

Betty went the rest of the term wondering what went through his mind in that moment and if it was anything like in her own.

She wondered how to get him to look at her like that again.

***

Receiving a prefect badge when opening her school letter was a wonderful start to sixth year.

She hadn't been on the receiving list the prior year, having lost the privilege to Cheryl (who, mind you, had a penchant for chaos — which was a direct quote). Hogwarts rectified their mistake this year. No doubt with backlash from the Blossom's.

But Headmistress Mcgonagall was a tough woman, and that was that.

Her cousin congratulated her with a tight lipped smile, and Betty knew she'd have to give her some leeway or else her life would be infinitely harder.

When she scanned the list of names for the other Houses, it was almost comical how her stomach flipped with seeing Jughead's.

They had grown closer since Christmas, that was for sure, but there was an almost palpable tension between them at the same time. Whether it was their rivalry of competing or the weird way they always recoiled from each other whenever they accidentally touched, she wasn't sure.

Even Archie looked between them strangely at times, and he was usually oblivious. However, Veronica Lodge had seemingly put him under her spell the last few months, and he had become a better person for it.

Betty had initially been so concerned that she shoved a bezoar down his throat in order to nullify the potential of a love potion. She had never been anything more than an acquaintance to her housemate, but she did feel guilty afterwards when nothing spectacular happened.

The Lodge's were on her mother's list, not that she paid it any mind now as Alice would put everyone on it if she could.

Veronica sort of wedged herself in Betty's life, slowly but surely, through Archie. They continued the kindred relationship beyond that of the group, and suddenly, she had a friend that wasn't a boy for once.

A friend who had graciously pointed out, when they met up at the train station in their regular clothes, that she had filled out. It heated her cheeks when Veronica circled her hands about her waist and squeezed the dip of the newly found curve.

It made her a little bit more self-conscious than she already had been, and a touch more when she put on her school robes to find them a bit tighter. Heaven forbid, she had only picked them up at Madam Malkins two weeks ago! She considered transfiguring the skirt a bit longer, but the thought vanished as the Head Boy and Girl from each House entered the prefect cabin.

While the speeches droned on, the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up, and she lifted her chin, eyes darting to the corner farthest from the door where she was sitting.

Jughead was staring at her, albeit lazily, one hand propping his chin up as he leaned forward against his knees. Hat slightly askew on his head, as if he had just ran his hands through his hair before everyone entered.

Or, her mind supplied, _someone else_ had ran their hands through it.

The thought alone was enough to spike jealousy in her that she hadn't known before. It was irrational and _stupid_ , the very epitome of teenage girl. So she swallowed it down and tilted her head, raising an eyebrow coquettishly, as she folded her hands atop crossed knees.

He sat up a little, eyes darting to the droning voice of the Ravenclaw Head Boy — Marcus, she recalled — and rolled his eyes. He mouthed something to her with a nod of his head.

 _Patrol_.

She glanced down at the parchment the Heads had passed out, finding her paired with Jughead for the first half of each term. She was paired with Fangs for the second half, a quiet Hufflepuff she didn't know all that much about besides that he could be seen around Jughead when the latter wasn't with Archie or by himself.

Smiling up at him, she gave her own nod, watching as he relaxed into the seat and tugged on the already loose tie around his throat.

Finding it hard to break away from him now, she reluctantly did so. She ignored the fact that his eyes were still on her and the parts of her brain that wondered what exactly he was looking at.

She wouldn't get a chance to speak to him until after the feast — after the first years were sorted and put to bed and the rest of the students mingled until curfew at nine — when they had to take their first laps around their section of the castle, shiny badges proudly on display.

They met at the bottom of the grand staircase, much like when she first happened upon him, almost tripping over his legs in a rush to get down the stairs and be on time.

"Woah, woah — slow down, Cooper," Jughead shot an arm out, gripping tight around her wrist as he sat up, other hand placed securely behind her knee on the bare skin just above where her socks ended. "I know you were excited to see me, but I didn't realize you were _falling_ for me."

She stumbled over her words as lightning rippled down her spine, staring at him very nearly in-between her legs.

"Oh sod off," Betty mumbled, clearing her throat and using the toe of her Mary Jane to kick at his knee, before stepping out of his grasp and off the last step. "I have much better taste than the likes of you."

"Oh yeah? I've seen your taste, and I disagree."

She swatted at him, but he ducked under her hand before standing and scuttling away from her reach.

He was grinning. "Still a sore subject?"

"Not a subject at all," she supplied, arms crossing over her chest, as she motioned him to follow her lest they fall behind schedule. "I'll have you know I met a rather fit guy while on holiday with my parents in the Netherlands."

"Is that right? Someone Alice Cooper approved, surely." He fell into step beside her, hands in his pockets, stare fixated ahead.

"Surely not, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Jughead raised an eyebrow, glancing at her briefly before looking away again and squinting down one of the long hallways where the lights had already been dimmed. He turned towards it sharply, raising his wand with one hand and uttering a quiet _lumos_ to ignite the end.

"Breaking the rules? When you're such a perfect witch?"

She followed suit, one step behind him, as she struggled to keep up with his gait. Poking her wand into his side, she wedged herself beside him. Their sides brushed together as they walked, almost too close for comfort.

"Don't make me hex you. I've broken my fair share of rules. I'm not _perfect_ by any means," she almost spat the word.

"But you were chosen as a prefect."

"So were you," she challenged.

"Touche. I'll drop it then, because we really don't want to get into the reasons why I shouldn't have been chosen."

Betty lurched back, grabbing his elbow. His words peaking her curiosity but torn because—

"Did you hear that? Sounds like muffled screaming?"

Jughead nodded, eyebrows knitting together. The line of his shoulders straightened, and she was being pulled along as they jogged down the hallway.

They came up in front of a broom closet, blinking at the door before looking at each other.

One with a sigh, and one with a barely concealed smirk.

Extending a fist, Jughead pounded on the door. "Hey — your _muffliato_ isn't as good as you think. Get your asses back to your dorms unless you want to lose House points before the term even starts."

Betty huffed, fingers clenching her wand, as they both stepped back at the sound of shuffling.

To her surprise (and horror), Archie and Veronica stumbled out of the closet in little to no dress.

Veronica, with her hair mussed and only in a bra and skirt, had the nerve to wave ever so politely, while Archie at least looked ashamed, though ridiculous, covered in lipstick.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you cast it," Veronica sighed, bored.

"Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good." A sad puppy if she ever saw one.

"Oh, Archiekins, you were _doing well_ with your mouth—"

"Guys!" Betty sputtered, cutting them off, waving her arms around the empty hallway. "Don't make me show favoritism before I've really even started." Throwing a hand over her face, she pointed down the hallway. "Get. Out. Of. Here."

Veronica pushed Archie past them through the hallway, clutching her shirt to her chest, but not before throwing Betty a wink.

"I'll talk to you later, B."

They walked away still clinging to each other, lights from their wands disappearing into the darkness. Betty still had her doubts that they would return to their dorms in a timely manner.

Turning to the closet, Jughead shut the door with his boot. "Remind me to never go in there."

"Do you often frequent broom closets, Jones?"

He laughed at that, lowering his wand to illuminate the ground as he turned to continue down the hallway towards the astronomy tower. "Not usually. But if you do a proper _muffliato_ , then you're not going to get caught like _that_ , anyway."

Her cheeks burned at the thought of him—

"Well," she drawled, blanking on a response. "I'd say I've gotten pretty good at it."

"Is that an offer, or are you just taunting?"

Betty felt her cheeks burning, thankful for the darkness that enveloped the hallway. "I'm just _saying_ that I'm good at it."

"All talk, no action." He tsk'd.

Turning on the heel of her foot, she pointed her wand at him, elbow down and wrist turned out. "I'll show you action."

He brought a hand up, plucking the tip of her wand and lowering it down away from him. His eyes wavered from her face to drop down to her lips, then even further until she could feel her blouse stretched tight over her chest on an inhale. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, teeth catching on the fullness.

"Not the action I meant."

She swallowed as he took a step forward, taking one step back for each of his until she felt the wall at her back. The stone was cold. Shocking. Her wand clattered to the ground as she was forced to look up at him.

"What did you mean, then?" Her voice was steady, breathy, lips parting in anticipation.

He smirked, hand curled around his wand propped up against the wall by her head. The light cast glinting shadows across his face, deepening the dark circles under his eyes.

"You were staring at me all through the feast."

"Was I?"

"Yes," Jughead leaned in, lips hovering over her own before he tilted up to her ear. "You know, Toni is a Legilimens."

 _Fuck_.

"Since when?"

"Does that really matter?" His breath tickled her ear as he stepped closer, boot sliding between her Mary Janes as he invaded her space. But she wanted him there, her hands trembling at her sides in restraint. "You were projecting so loudly that it was impossible for her not to listen."

"When did you even get a chance to talk to her?"

"Stop stalling, Cooper."

He was looking at her now, watching her lip quiver, as she fumbled for words, for anything that made a lick of sense. Her brain felt foggy, like a window steamed with heat, and all she could see was him.

"What exactly is it you want from me, if you already know what I was thinking?"

"I want you to say it."

"Say what?"

Jughead threw her a look that had the heat in her chest and neck traveling much further south, swirling low in her belly. The hand not holding his wand tilted her chin up a bit more, the pad of his thumb sliding against the curve of her jaw and down the front of her throat. He pressed in, her breath catching at the action and drawing his eyes back down to her lips.

"Tell me that you want me." He said lowly, quiet in the silence of the hallway, but loud enough to feel deafening.

It made her squirm, feeling flushed even with the stone at her back seeping through her clothes.

The fear of rejection, humiliation, disappointment, and so much more sat heavy on her chest. There was only a small part of her that thought this could be mutual, overshadowed by the rest, but she wanted to listen, would listen and risk it all.

She was never as good of a liar as her sister.

"I want you, Jughead Jones." He smiled then, something different from his usual smirk or half-way grin that never quite reached his eyes. "But I can't date you," she added, quickly.

Betty had never seen him look so vulnerable as in that moment. The way his expression fell so suddenly made her heart flutter. She brought her hands up to his cheeks, cupping them between her hands, pulling him back from where he had already started to step away.

"I _want_ you," she repeated, "but my mother can't know that."

There was a beat of silence until he leaned forward. His lips barely ghosting her own, a murmur on the tip of his tongue. "Sneaking around the castle might just have its merits if your _muffliato_ is as good as you say."

She grinned at that, tugging him closer to press her mouth fully against his.

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

"Oh, it's on now, Jones."

  


_....TBC_

**Author's Note:**

> THERE WILL BE A SECOND PART.  
> Smut cometh, yo. I swears it. Soon. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> My tumblr = [@lilibug--xx](https://lilibug--xx.tumblr.com)


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